


Heartstrings

by svtseasons



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Musicians, seoksoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svtseasons/pseuds/svtseasons
Summary: Julliard student and aspiring world-famous cellist Kwon Soonyoung meets Lee Seokmin, a punk rock band bassist from the wrong side of town. Lovely music ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Soonyoung was playing the last few measures of the Dvorak piece for the mid-semester recital when Charles, the teaching assistant for his theory class, knocked on the practice room. 

 

“Is this about the theory homework? I submitted it-”

“No, Soonyoung. Just letting you know that Dr. Bodner was looking for you.”

 

Thanking Charles, Soonyoung lifted his cello off of the floor to put it back in the case. He carefully folded up his stand and packed his scores, wondering what his mentoring professor wanted from him. Perhaps it was about the last assignment he submitted for the damn Popular Music Studies class that Soonyoung never wanted to take in the first place. Wiping the sweat away from his forehead, Soonyoung closed the practice room door and headed towards Dr. Bodner’s office.

 

The distinct smell of resin hit his nose as soon as Soonyoung entered the office. Most professors kept their instruments in a private practice room but Dr. Bodner always preferred practicing in his own office, not caring about the noise that he was inflicting on everyone in the adjacent offices. His seniority made him practically untouchable, even among his world-renowned peers. 

 

This time, however, Dr. Bodner was not sitting in his practice chair, tutting away at some music with his bow drawn like an extension of his own arm. Instead, he was sitting at his desk, typing away on his antiquated computer. He was deeply immersed in the screen. Soonyoung rapped lightly on the door to make his presence known. The professor, whose posture and face always reminded Soonyoung of a tortoise, flinched at the sound. Then he motioned for Soonyoung to sit down. 

 

“Is there something wrong, Dr. Bodner?”

“Something wrong… well, to be honest with you, Soonyoung. There are plenty of things that are wrong. But let’s keep the topic to your coursework today, shall we?”

 

Soonyoung winced at Dr. Bodner’s remark. It was true that when he first arrived at Julliard, he was ecstatic to be placed under the famous Robert Bodner’s tutelage. However, they had vastly different opinions about where Soonyoung’s education and work should be headed towards. The constant butting of the heads was tiresome-- over coursework selection, piece selection, project participation-- and neither of them wanted to give into the other’s demands. The two years of the struggled culminated in the Popular Music Studies class- which was a cornerstone course for the cello performance major. Truthfully, Soonyoung hated the class and found it senselessly boring. He put very little effort in the assignments and even less effort in showing up to class. 

 

“Mr. Kwon. I’m going to be frank with you. At this rate, you will inevitably fail the course and that means that you cannot participate in the junior year recital or move on to your final year for your degree.”

“But, Professor--”

“Just because you keep turning in half-hearted papers for the class does not mean that you will pass the class. This class is included in the curriculum for all classical performance majors for a reason. You will need to pass this class in order to graduate from this institution.”

“Dr. Bodner, you know that I practice the hardest out of everyone in this department. If I wasn’t eager to study under your direction, I could have applied to other, more rigorous performance-based institutions and would have gotten accepted.”

“That is very flattering, Mr. Kwon, but I’m afraid that you matriculated here. And while you complete your studies here, you must pass this class to graduate.”

 

Sweeping away the frustration from his eyes, Soonyoung sighed.

 

“Okay, so, do you want me to show up more to class or--?”

“No, Soonyoung. We are far too deep into the semester for that. Your grades in all of the other classes besides the performance classes are less than stellar also. You will need to take a break in the next semester to make up your courses.”

 

“What? Dr. Bodner, you know that I can’t afford to take a semester off--” Soonyoung seethed at the thought. 

 

“Or. You can choose to participate in this project and I’ll make sure that you end up with a passable grade in this course.”

 

With his withered hand, Dr. Bodner pushed a brochure across the desk. Soonyoung picked the paper up gingerly and started reading through it. 

 

“City Music Mentors project?” the young man squinted, flipping the pages of the brochure, “What is this?”

 

Dr. Bodner started typing away again on his keyboard. “It’s exactly as you read it. For the rest of the semester, you will mentor a high school student from this city and coach them in performance and composition. At the end of the program, you present an original composition and perform it together. Very simple.”

 

“Every weekend?” Soonyoung gawked at the brochure, “Professor, I cannot waste my time on a project like this!”

 

“Well, then, I guess you can take some time off and waste your hours making up courses instead,” Dr. Bodner said frostily, peering at Soonyoung over his reading glasses. Soonyoung bit his lips. He hated working on projects with the students here. It would be a torture to work on a project with some kid off of the city streets. However, he really could not afford to take time off of school. 

 

“Fine,” Soonyoung finally relented, “I’ll go to this project.”

 

“Very well, Soonyoung. I’ll let the program director know that you’ll be there at 10AM sharp this Saturday.”

 

\------

 

Seokmin was waiting anxiously in front of Principal Perez, who was talking on the phone with Vernon’s parents. He had higher hopes for his senior year. He even promised his parents that he would not get in trouble again this year. And yet, the first quarter was barely over and he was sitting in the Principal’s office again. 

 

“I told you, we shouldn’t have put them up in the hallway.”

“Seokmin, my brother, how would we get discovered if no one knows that our band exists? Right, Josh?”

“Yeah, man.”

 

Easy for you to say, thought Seokmin as Vernon and Joshua gave each other high-fives. Vernon’s parents were chill about everything and Joshua managed to get into the Top 20 for their graduating class. Seokmin had strict parents and a GPA that barely hung onto the bar for passing. 

 

And Jun? Who even knows what Jun is thinking.

 

“Gentleman, I am not surprised that you are all here again today. Just disappointed. Care to explain yourselves?”

 

The look of pure contempt from the woman made them all flinch.

 

“Principal Perez, we were just hanging up posters to invite the school to our show, you know?”

“Yes, “I know”, Mr. Chwe. And from our last discussion, I thought it was clear that you were forbidden from hanging up any unauthorized materials on the school grounds. You know?”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that Doris. We’re serious musicians here.”

“Please do not refer to me by my first name, Mr. Chwe. And serious musicians or not, you guys are students at this school.”

 

Seokmin gulped, sensing trouble. Principal Perez tugged at the jacket of her pants suit and sighed. 

 

“We cannot tolerate this kind of behavior. You received a warning and a suspension last time, so the next step would be expulsion.”

 

All four boys started to protest but a sharp glance from Principal Perez stopped them.

 

“However. It would be quite a shame to put Mr. Hong and Mr. Wen through an expulsion process since they’re doing so well academically with their IB classes.”

 

“Wait, Jun is doing well academically?” Seokmin wondered out loud. 

 

The woman ignored his interruption. 

 

“So I am proposing an alternative. There is a music mentoring program that this school is participating in. You four will all participate and cooperate fully. The success of this program is so important to receiving future funding, so no sneaky nonsense will be allowed. If you do not participate or drop out in the middle of the program, we will have no choice but to expel you.”

 

She held out a brochure that screamed “CITY MUSIC MENTORS PROJECT” in a bright, obnoxiously large font. Seokmin practically snatched the brochure out of her hands, in case she changed her mind. The boys nodded eagerly at the proposal, thanked Principal Perez with a forced smile, and ran out of the office as fast as they could. 

 

“Ugh, I can’t believe we got dragged into this phony program,” Joshua sighed, checking the time on his phone.

 

Seokmin gave a wide grin. “But hey, at least we didn’t get expelled!”

 

“Did you read this though? We have to go every Saturday until the rest of the term.”

“Whaaaat?”

 

Vernon came up behind the two of them and put his arms around them to look at the brochure. Seokmin frowned. His parents worked on Saturdays and he wondered if his little sister Somin would be able to take care of herself at home. 

 

“Well, it still sure beats getting expelled, at least,” sighed Joshua, running his fingers through his newly dyed pink hair, his eyes downtrodden with sadness, “Right, Jun?” 

 

The quiet, tall boy looked up thoughtfully. “Hmm, better? I wonder...”

 

\------------------

 

Climbing down from the subway station, Soonyoung frowned and looked around for a sign for the Y. He had never been to the Bronx before. The grittiness of the scenery surprised him the most. He had always thought that New York looked run down and unclean compared to Seoul. But this neighborhood looked shady, like something out of a gangster movie from the 80’s. The sign for the YMCA came into his line of sight but it read “Y CA”. Soonyoung sighed as he tugged on his cello case and dragged his heavy feet over to the building. 

The receptionist in the front directed him to the large gym inside, which was sparsely occupied by people carrying their respective instruments. He came up to a table where a young woman with a buzz cut wearing a bright orange t-shirt and a nametag was sitting with some papers spread out in front of her. 

 

“Hi, I’m supposed to check in with the director? Jack Landman?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Oh.”

 

Soonyoung was taken aback. He had expected some man around the age of Dr. Bodner. The director gave a throaty laugh. She extended her hand for a shake. 

 

“Jacqueline Landman, director for the City Music Mentors Project. But everyone calls me Jack. You must be Soonyoung Kwon? Am I saying that right?”

 

“Yes. Nice to meet you.” An awkward silence fell as he shook and dropped her hand. Soonyoung coughed as he fidgeted with the straps of his case. 

 

“Uh, so what am I doing today?”

“Well, I heard from Dr. Bodner that you are a cellist. So what we do here at City Music Mentors is quite unique. Each classically trained mentor, such as yourself, gets matched up with a student from the local schools. You guys meet here every week to come up with a piece to present at the end of the semester. Unfortunately, because our program started last week, our cello students have all been matched up with a mentor.”

 

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Soonyoung said, unable to hide the glee from his voice. 

 

“But,” Jack continued, “there is a new student who is coming today. He doesn’t have formal training with the cello but he is a bassist in his band.” 

 

“So why not match him with a bassist?” Soonyoung frowned. 

 

“No, I mean that he plays the electric bass guitar. Also, we don’t have a bass that we can loan out at this center. But since the fingering is the same across classical cello and the bass guitar, you guys would be the optimal match for the program.”

 

Optimal match. Soonyoung wanted to protest. How can a delicate instrument like the cello be compared to the oafish bass guitar? But he bit his lips instead. He had wrestled with the idea of giving up on this program, but he could not cause any more delays in his plans. He was not going to give up his dream to become the best cellist in the world, not after all that he has gone through already. And a part of that dream meant that he had to pass this stupid class, no matter what. 

 

Jack perked up suddenly. “Ooh, and I believe that is him coming into the gym right now.” Soonyoung turned to look. A group of boys were entering the gym. He observed them closely. The boy with the bright pink hair and doe-like eyes carrying a guitar case came into his sight first. Another boy, decked out in baggy pants and a headphone around his neck, was swaggering in with his cap still on. The tallest boy with long limbs and shoulder-length black hair was fooling around behind them, laughing. Finally, a boy with wide shoulders and even wider grin was making faces, recklessly flailing around the guitar case and amp that he was carrying in both hands. He was particularly loud out of the bunch, the voice carrying all the way across the room as if he had been standing right besides Soonyoung and Jack.  

 

Soonyoung immediately took a disliking to them. 

 

“Welcome, gentleman. Which one of you here is Seokmin Lee?”

“That’s me!”

 

The loudest boy raised his amp and grinned. 

 

“Great. Your mentor is Mr. Kwon over here. You guys can use room 218 for your session today. Mr. Kwon, please grab this sheet and fill it out at the end of your session today. You’ll need to submit it to me before you leave.”

 

Disgruntled, Soonyoung tried not to show his annoyance as he led the chatty boy across the gym. 

 

“Hi, so I’m Seokmin. Wow, your last name is Kwon? Are you Korean? Because I’m Korean, too. Where do you go to school? You’re probably in college or grad school, right? Should I call you hyung?”

 

“Can you please be quiet and ask one question at a time?” Soonyoung hissed through his gritted teeth. But the young boy’s smile got wider. 

 

“Hahaha, I’m sorry. I’m really talkative. I forget that about myself sometimes. It’s just that when I have a question, I can’t let it just stay in my head. You’ll just have to get used to my big mouth.” 

 

Exasperated, Soonyoung sighed and opened the door to Room 218. There was an antiquated piano in the corner and some plastic chairs standing in no particular arrangement. There was a cheap practice cello lying flat in front of a music stand, also. 

 

“Have a seat,” Soonyoung motioned to Seokmin. He noticed the veins popping out on Seokmin’s arms underneath the thin white t-shirt as Seokmin carefully set down the bass and the amp. Setting his own cello down, Soonyoung felt just a tiny bit sorry as he hadn’t been considerate of Seokmin carrying the heavy amp and the guitar the entire way to the practice room. But Seokmin showed no sign of tiredness. He shook his messy curls out of his eyes instead, looking up expectantly at Soonyoung as he sat down on a chair. 

 

“My name’s Soonyoung. Yes, I am Korean and I don’t care what you call me as long as you do the work you’re supposed to do. Now, I am a classically trained cellist. I heard that you play the bass guitar, is that right?”

“Yup! Me and my friends-- you saw them when we came in, right?-- we have our own band. It’s--”

 

“Ok, that’s all I need to know,” interjected Soonyoung, irritated. “And do you know how to read music?”

 

“I guess, as much as I learned during music class.”

“Good.”

 

Opening his cello case, Soonyoung took out a folder of sheet music. He took out a few leaves of paper and set them on the banged-up music stand in the middle of the room. 

 

“I’ll teach you how to hold the bow. The fingering is the same for both instruments so it should not be difficult. Here.”

 

Tightening and passing off the bow that was sitting on the music stand, Soonyoung took out his own bow to demonstrate. 

 

“Wow, that’s really cool--” Seokmin exclaimed as he tried to touch Soonyoung’s deep blue bow. But Soonyoung hastily pulled it away before his hand touched it. 

 

“Don’t. Ever. Touch my bow.”

 

Wide-eyed, Seokmin froze as he saw Soonyoung’s face harden, the glare from his eyes as sharp as a knife. Soonyoung saw the surprise in Seokmin’s eyes and felt a bit of embarrassment. But he didn’t want to apologize. He continued to glare as he silently shriveled inwards. 

 

Seokmin tried to diffuse the tension with a laughter. 

 

“Sorry. I get it. I bought my baby with hard-earned money and I don’t let anyone touch it either. Well, except all of my bandmates. And my sister, I guess,” he motioned to his bass guitar as he held up the bow of the practice cello, which was barely holding on to its hairs. He looked at Soonyoung’s hand and tried to position his own long fingers in the same manner. “Like this?”

 

“More like this. And loosen up your pinky so that it just rests on the the top here.”

 

Seokmin felt clumsy as ever, holding the bow which was quite heavier than he thought. He held it out at an arms length so that Soonyoung could inspect the position. Wordlessly, the skinny young teacher moved around Seokmin’s slender digits until it was bent and curved into a position that was satisfactory. He then motioned towards the chair for Seokmin to sit back down. Lifting the shabby old cello off of the stand, Soonyoung gingerly passed it off into Seokmin’s embrace. 

 

“Okay, try playing.”

“Now?”

 

Seokmin raised his eyebrows. Soonyoung nodded, frowning slightly at the annoyance of having to repeat himself. The younger boy was about to protest but shut his mouth when he saw the sharp gaze piercing through Soonyoung’s silvery hair. Uncertain, Seokmin held the bow against the string and pushed it across. It screeched into an audible note. 

 

“Harder. You have to press harder on the bow. Again.”

 

Note by note, Seokmin found that there was something wrong with the way he was playing. He wasn’t pressing on the string enough, his note was a little sharp, he was using the wrong length of the bow… it seemed impossible to get through the first measure correctly. Seokmin wondered if he was ever going to get a hang of playing. 

 

“Again.”

“Can we take a break?”

 

Exasperated, Seokmin looked up at the clock. Soonyoung followed his gaze up and pursed his lips again. 

 

“Nonsense. It’s only been half an hour.”

“Honestly, this is really difficult and tiring. My shoulder and elbow hurts already and my brain is about to burst, hyung.”

“... Fine. Take a break. Ten minutes.”

 

Since this was just a warm-up, Soonyoung had figured that Seokmin would be able to go on at least for an hour without stopping. He caved into Seokmin’s brightly smiling face, but he started wondering if his student was trying to just be lazy. Of course, since he had no real interest in this project, who cares if Seokmin was trying to goof off? He just had to fill out his time here and put on some kind of performance at the end. Soonyoung felt confused and ambivalent. 

 

Having no clue about Soonyoung’s internal struggles, Seokmin circled around the room drinking his water and stretching. He peeked through the window facing the hallway, looking to see if any of his friends had been released from their rooms. Finding the hallway dark and empty, he turned his gaze back at the piano against the wall of the classroom. Seokmin sat on its bench and tried to remember a piece that he had learned as a child. 

 

“You know how to play the piano?”

 

Soonyoung seemed to take interest as Seokmin pressed on a few keys. 

 

“Eh, not really. I learned a little bit from a deaconness at my church when I was young. But that was a long time ago.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I just… did.”

 

His grin disappearing from his face, Seokmin looked down at the keyboard and lifted his fingers. Soonyoung looked up and noticed the crestfallen look on the young boy’s face. He was curious but he decided not to press on further. 

 

“Play something.”

“Right now?”

 

A surprised Seokmin looked behind his shoulder. Soonyoung shrugged and gestured back at him. Seokmin furrowed his eyebrows and then started to tap on the piano gently, trying to think of something. He finally pressed down on the keys to play something. Soonyoung closed his eyes and listened. 

 

“Interesting. Did you write that yourself?”

“Yeah. It was for our band to play as a warm-up.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s not bad.”

 

Soonyoung almost laughed at the pure look of glee that came from Seokmin’s face when he said that. The boy was a good few inches taller than he was and his wide frame made him look even larger against Soonyoung’s skinny body. But Seokmin acted just like an excited golden retriever. It reminded Soonyoung that Seokmin was still just a kid. 

 

“Do you want to hear what the bass part sounds like?”

 

Before Soonyoung could refuse, Seokmin had already unzipped his bass case and was hooking up the wires to his amp. He turned it on and the soft hum buzzed throughout the silent room. Seokmin’s eyebrows came together again in deep concentration as he tuned the bass guitar. Soonyoung sat back in his own chair and watched. When he was finished, Seokmin strummed down the strings one more time. And then the guitar roared into life. Soonyoung was pleasantly surprised by Seokmin’s playing, which was more rhythmical and faster than he thought. The melodic lines in the riff were fresh and not touched too heavily by rock n’ roll cliches. There was a fair bit of interesting progressions that Seokmin chose. Soonyoung concentrated also, trying to match up what his student had played on the piano before to the blunt and rough sound of the bass. 

 

“So?”

 

Seokmin looked at Soonyoung with hopeful eyes. However, he shrunk backwards when he saw Soonyoung’s pointed stare. “Why,” Soonyoung sighed as his ran his fingers through his bangs, “didn’t you play like that when we were practicing on the cello?”

 

“I was, I was trying--”

“You know, I understand you don’t want to be here and you don’t want to practice.”

 

Seokmin felt a surge of anger but pressed it down to let Soonyoung continue.

 

“I’m not here to do anything big either. But I gave up my time so that I can practice with you and teach you. I could be doing so many things right now besides sitting here and watching you half-ass it on the cello when you can play like this. It’s an insult, really. I’ve played for years and years but I still give 100% into every practice.”

  
  


Seokmin bit his lips. “You know what? You’re a terrible teacher.”

 

Soonyoung was startled by the boy lashing out. 

 

“Yeah, I’m here so I won’t get expelled. But I’m playing this for the first time and so far, I’ve really been trying even though I have no clue how to play. I’m not even sure how this bow is supposed to move, so how would I be able to play this piece right here? I should be starting with the scales first. Sorry if you started playing since you were, like, five years old, so you don’t feel bothered to teach me the basics.”

 

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them. Still shell-shocked, Soonyoung opened his mouth and blurted out the first thing that crossed his mind. 

 

“Six.”

 

“What?” Seokmin asked incredulously.

 

“I started playing when I was six, not five.”

“Screw you, Kwon Soonyoung.”

 

Seokmin started to unplug the wires while Soonyoung still tried to process the situation. He felt embarrassed and sorry for not starting with the basics. Of course, he had been expecting a student who would have some idea of how to start playing the cello. He didn’t prepare to teach someone who was starting from scratch. And playing cello had always been a part of his life, he simply didn’t really remember a time when he didn’t know how to play. 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

He finally set down his pride as he saw Seokmin open the door. The tall boy, already grasping the door handle, hesitated for a moment at the sincerity of the words. 

 

“You’re right. You're a beginner and I shouldn't have pushed on so quickly. But you know what? You shouldn't underestimate yourself either. There's an intuitive element in your playing. You could catch on quickly if you really wanted to. Don't be afraid to strive for perfection.”

 

The younger boy stood by the doorway, dumbfounded. He licked his lips, a nervous habit that he had acquired without even knowing. Soonyoung stood up from his seat, observing the nervous Seokmin. He sighed. 

 

“Let’s try it again, one more time. I'll try to go over it slowly and trust that you'll practice the rest.”

 

Seokmin nodded, looking at Soonyoung’s face soften and his eyes bend into a warm curve. 

 

“You have to trust me when I say that you have something unique in your composition. There's a lot of theory to be learned but I think that's the area we want to focus on.”

 

Seokmin bit his lips. Soonyoung smiled, his cheeks rising. The boy might be a little bigger than he was, but he was still a little boy. He had forgotten that Seokmin was just a senior in high school. Soonyoung thought about what he was doing at Seokmin’s age. When I was a senior in high school…  Suddenly, his heart hardened at the thought. 

 

But luckily, Seokmin did not notice the change in Soonyoung’s emotions.

  
“Okay, I guess,” Seokmin mumbled sheepishly, even though he was suddenly very excited at the thought of playing his own compositions together with Soonyoung. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

Soonyoung was breezing through his usual Tuesday morning practice with a nervous excitement that he couldn't quite pinpoint. He wanted to focus on the piece he was playing for his performance class but his mind kept running back to thinking about the composition project he was going to complete with Seokmin. He shook his head and looked at the clock, realizing that he was about to run late for the music theory class. The one his group was supposed to be presenting in. 

 

Rushing through the streets to get to the proper building, Soonyoung made it just in time for the professor to start roll call for the class. He heaved while he located the rest of his group-- whose faces he barely remembered-- and sat down. 

 

“Kwon, where’s the printout for the script?”

“You guys didn't print your own?”

 

The senior conducting major, whose name was something like Fred or Ed, shook his head. Soonyoung sighed. He had done most of the slides for the presentation and sent it to the group in advance. He gave his copy to the group while he took out an old rough draft with corrections on it. This will have to do. 

 

“Yes, so Group D is going to present today. Is that right?”

“Yes, Professor Lowery.”

“Okay, please come up.”

 

Soonyoung inserted the USB into the computer in front of the classroom. He frowned as the little quiet bassoon major squeaked her way barely through the beginning slides. As his group mates stumbled, Soonyoung quipped in with corrections, hoping that the professor will not notice and give them a bad grade. They ran through their presentation and Soonyoung fielded all the questions, as he had researched and prepared most of the sources in this project. He sat down in relief as the class continued on. 

 

“Mr. Kwon, can I see you for a second?”

 

The professor barked at him while other students left the classroom, glancing in amusement. Soonyoung’s heart sunk. Had he done something wrong? Messed up the research? Did the fact that his group barely met show?

 

“Don't be alarmed,” the old woman smiled kindly, pushing up her reading glasses. “I was just looking over the feedback from your group. Now, you should know, the presentation was excellent. But your group members all gave negative feedback for you.”

 

“What?” he exclaimed, “how could they have given me negative feedback when I was the one who did all the work?” Soonyoung felt the heat rise to his cheeks. 

 

Professor Lowry nodded sympathetically. “I know, dear. It shows in your presentation that you put in a lot of work into the project,” she cooed, “but you also have to know that a part of being a professional musician is doing well in a team. You need to open up to other people to let other people open up to you.Learn to give people the courtesy to do the work themselves, Mr. Kwon. I won't be docking any points for it, but I do hope you learn from it.”

 

Soonyoung felt exhausted from the anger. “Well, thanks for letting me know, Professor,” he lied. He would rather have lived in ignorant bliss. 

 

Downtrodden, he dragged his feet towards the small school dining hall in the basement. People were sitting with their friends, chatting brightly and grinning. Damn these hipsters and their communal tables, there were no single or even small tables in the cafeteria. He needed to sit with someone. Soonyoung lifted up his phone to text his roommate Jackson and realized that this time slot was rehearsal time for all drum majors. Gloomy, he picked up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, wondering if he would be able to sneak it into the practice rooms. It would be less pitiful than wolfing his lunch down in the bathroom stalls. 

  
  


-

 

“Tell me about it, it was a total drag.”

 

Jun rolled his eyes as the four boys sat down for lunch. They were discussing the music program. Jun was matched with an older pianist who taught at the Manhattan School of Music. 

 

“My lesson was great,” scoffed Vernon, digging into the pile of red and white mush that their school menu insisted was spaghetti, “the timpanist was a total babe. Haha.”

 

“Yeah, I saw him,” Joshua whispered to Seokmin, “the guy looked like a baby. He looked so wide-eyed and chubby with baby fat, I would’ve thought Vernon was babysitting him.” They both snickered while Vernon threw his carrot sticks at them. 

 

“I still haven't even started my homework,” said Seokmin as he chewed thoughtfully. 

The guys all lurched back and gave him a weird glance. “Homework?” Josh asked, “What homework?”

 

“None of you had homework?”

 

They shook their heads solemnly and Seokmin groaned. He knew it. He had the toughest teacher. Soonyoung had given him pages and pages of music theory worksheets to complete and study. He wanted Seokmin to also start off a new composition. 

 

Jun playfully started taking out individual sticks from Seokmin’s pile of French fries. “Does it matter? I mean, you don't even do your homework for school…”

 

“Well, that’s true…”

 

Seokmin was pretty rubbish at school. He scraped by barely in his classes. It didn't matter. His parents had just accepted it as a part of their cross to bear. They would be happy with him just graduating high school on time. His teachers couldn't stay mad at his good natured face for long. And besides, his baby sister Somin was the smart one. 

 

What would be the harm, Seokmin thought, if he pushed it off a little more?

 

-

 

Thursdays were Soonyoung’s favorite day. He had no class in the morning and his orchestra class all of the afternoon. He sat alert as they played through their piece for the winter concert. The cello section this year happened to be mostly undergrads, and Soonyoung hoped that by his senior year, he would be good enough to place first chair. 

 

“Wait,” Dr. Albert frowned as he lowered his baton, “something is off. Cello.”

 

“It’s the third measure on this page, sir. Some of us keep missing the flat.”

 

Soonyoung piped up eagerly, glad that he was scratching an itch that had been bothering him all afternoon. The conductor closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, so it is. Very good ears, Mr. Kwon. People, let's be alert. I know it's far away from the real performance, but you guys are Julliard instrumentalists, for chrissake!” Dr. Alberts was the only one laughing at his remark. 

 

“Very good, Mr. Kwon,” a mocking whiny voice rose softly behind him and a few snickers followed. Soonyoung felt his ears redden but did not turn around. 

 

“Hey, knock it out,” growled Jackson from the percussion section. That shut up the guffaw for a bit. Jackson was physically small and agile but his presence was formidable. He went from cute to powerful from 9 to zero. Everyone knew that Jackson’s family practically powered half the school. His parents were both alumni of the dance department and his grandfather had been a Trustee of the school. 

 

Soonyoung sighed. He knew that most of the cellist undergrads didn't like him. It made him bitter. He just wanted to be the best cellist, just like anyone else at this school. But he missed out on much of the departmental camaraderie his first year and no one bothered to give him a second chance. Except for Jackson and the handful of people who lived on his floor during freshman year. 

 

He wished for the day to be over soon. 

  
  


-

 

“Seokmin, I'm home!” Somin yelled as she ran in full force. Still holding the spatula, Seokmin grinned widely and opened his arms, being promptly rejected by his sassy 7th grader. Nevertheless, he went ahead and ruffled up Somin’s hair as she poured herself a glass of water. 

 

“Umma and Appa not home yet?” she asked. Seokmin shook his head. “Afraid not, kiddo. It sounds like Eduardo called out sick again, so they'll be at the store late today.” Their parents ran a 24 hour coin laundromat. 

 

She huffed and rolled her eyes. 

 

“Get ready to eat dinner! I gotta go practice with the boys in 30 minutes.”

 

“Wow, you losers still practice after all of that happened?”

 

Somin set up the table for two while Seokmin tasted the seaweed soup to see if it was seasoned enough. He was used to it, being like a parent to his sister while his mom and dad worked. His cooking skills were decent and Somin was luckily not a picky eater. Finding the soup to be passable, Seokmin scooped it onto the bowls.

 

“So how was school today?”

“Fine. I guess.”

“I guess? Uh oh. Junior high should be more than just fine. What’s wrong?”

 

Seokmin brushed Somin’s bangs out of her eyes as she hungrily devoured the meal. 

 

“You know. Junior high isn't all fun and games when you’re trying to get into a magnet school.”

 

Chuckling, Seokmin patted his sister on the back and went back to his food. “Sorry,” he shrugged, “I have no idea what it's like to be the talented overachiever in this family.”

 

After washing the dishes, Seokmin packed his bass and hurried over to Mr. Jones’ garage, which they had set up as their band practice space. The old man was at his vacation home for ¾ of the year and for the few months that he came back to the neighborhood, his hearing aid-less ears were blissfully ignorant of the racket they made. Joshua, Vernon, and Jun were already there, setting up.

 

“Hey, so about that gig.”

“Good evening to you, too, Josh.”

 

The pink haired boy smiled with his eyes and swatted him playfully. “We’re all set for this Friday, right? They said we can do the sound check at 6.”

 

Seokmin groaned. He had completely forgotten that they were playing at the club this week. “Dammit, I have that homework to finish still.”

 

“So? Work on it,” said Jun, adjusting the settings on his keyboard. 

 

“It’s pages and pages of work!”

 

“I saw that packet. It's only 10 pages, man,” replied Joshua, flicking his amp on.

 

“Or. Just skip it,” yelled Vernon as they cringed from the feedback. 

 

“It is a lot for me. And I can't just skip it, man.”

 

“Why not? Like I've said before, you don't even do your work for school.” The pale boy yelled gleefully, stepping on his hi-hat. 

 

“Because.”

 

Seokmin didn't know how to answer that question.

  
  


-

 

Seokmin arrived at the Y earlier than the previous Saturday, much to the chagrin of his friends. He drummed his fingers nervously, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth. After getting back home late last night, he scrambled to finish the work that Soonyoung assigned him while chasing the sleep away from his eyes. 

 

“Soonyoung!” Seokmin called out across the gym to his mentor, whose silver blue hair shined softly against the bright halogen light of the gym. His heart warmed up a bit as he saw the usually stoic Soonyoung light up and smile at him. 

“Shall we start then? Let's go over your assignment.”

 

The warmth was gone as soon as they entered the practice room and Soonyoung got down to business. Timidly, Seokmin took out the folder and sighed as he handed in his half-assed work. 

 

“Hm… no, that’s… huh.” Soonyoung set the packet down on the table. He glanced up at Seokmin with confusion in his eyes. 

 

“You’re not… dyslexic or anything right?”

 

Seokmin shook his head, his cheeks flushing brightly and heart shriveling up. He lifted his eyes from the floor and flinched when he saw Soonyoung’s sharp gaze on him. 

 

“So,” the older boy sighed, “this was your best work?”

 

“Yep,” Seokmin forced a grin on his face, embarrassed. Soonyoung looked like he was about to say something but the close his mouth and ran his fingers through the papers again instead. “Okay, then,” he said quietly, “Let’s work on the playing a little bit.”

 

A rush of relief washed over Seokmin. He tried to make up for his poor work by being extra attentive to Soonyoung. When Soonyoung grabbed his hands to fix his bow position or rested his head on Seokmin’s shoulder as they read through the sheet music together, Seokmin was as alert as ever. But as the hours dragged on, Seokmin was losing focus quickly. 

 

“Hey. Hey!”

“Oh, oh! I'm so sorry.”

 

Seokmin apologized profusely as he realized that he had dozed off. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. He only had a few hours of sleep and the fatigue was wearing him out. Soonyoung lowered his own bow.

 

“You… still want to do this, right?”

“What do you mean?”

 

Seokmin bit his lips as he studied Soonyoung’s face. “Well. I mean, it looks like you didn't spend much effort on the work that I assigned you. And you’re clearly not interested in this lesson,” said Soonyoung softly. 

 

“I'm so sorry, it's just that I've been so tired…”

 

Guilty, he looked down to the ground. He didn't like the fact that Soonyoung sounded so disappointed. And it wasn't like he wasn't trying. Seokmin just was not doing his best today. He felt irritated at the situation. 

 

“You know,” Soonyoung said after a long moment of silence, “I was having a bad week. The only thing that kept me going forward to the weekend was our session. I figured at least making up for my terrible teaching last time and really helping you would be appreciated. I guess I was wrong.” He got up and slowly started to put away his bow into the case. Seokmin sighed and buried his face in his long hands. 

 

“C’mon, don't be like that, hyung. I really am tired. This whole week has just been so hectic, with school and family and the band… nah, you wouldn't understand.”

 

“What,” Soonyoung turned and snapped, “wouldn't I understand? Try me.”

 

“What do you know about being an average kid? I got my schoolwork. I have my sister to take care of. My parents can't pay for my commute, let alone help me with all the cost for my hobbies. So I'm out there mowing lawns or handing out fliers when I can. What do you know about that? Some rich kid from Julliard who’s never had to work a day in his life.”

 

The bitter words spilled out of Seokmin’s mouth. Maybe he had be deluded, he thought, thinking that he could have what Soonyoung had. A passion for music and a life to pursue it. It was a fluff dream, wishful thinking. 

 

Soonyoung quietly sat back down in his chair. 

 

“You’re wrong.”

 

Feeling his guts drop to the floor, Seokmin lifted his eyes and stared at his teacher. 

 

“My family isn't rich,” Soonyoung said quietly, “I mean. They do okay. But for me to be able to afford what I'm doing, I had to win. I had to be the best at all the competitions. I had to place first for all the prizes and scholarships. Even now, I’m fighting. I could use my weekends and free time to teach lessons for a lot of money. But I don’t. It would make my life easy but I want to devote my time as much as possible to my real goal. See? I love playing and I'm going to be the best at what I do.” His stare was so intense, Seokmin thought that it would burn a hole in his face.

 

“Don't you want it? Don't you want to be good?”

 

Seokmin could not answer, but Soonyoung continued.

 

“I know that you want to be. I heard it. Last week. That’s why even though your homework was a mess, I let it slide by. But if you want to do something, you have to make sacrifices. I want to trust you. I want to trust that you’re worth the sacrifices I'm making by being here today and that you'll make the sacrifices to write the kind of music you want to play.”

 

Seokmin expected anger and harshness to be in that sharp gaze. But instead, there was something soft and caring. His heart was shaking from the realness in Soonyoung’s words. 

 

“Sorry,” Seokmin whispered, barely audible, “I do want it. I really love playing and I really love writing music. I do. But it was hard this week. And it's daunting. What if I'm rubbish at it? How do I say no to my family and friends when I can't even show them anything good? I'm average. Maybe even less than that.”

 

Suddenly, Seokmin felt a soft, warm belly pressed against his face and hands smoothing his hair. “Don’t be silly. You have a talent. I wouldn't waste my time here if you didnt.” Soonyoung said it so as-matter-of-factly, Seokmin felt the weight lift from his heart. He inhaled, taking in Soonyoung’s sweet scent. A gentle cough from Soonyoung disturbed his peace and Seokmin blushed as he realized that his own arms were clinging tightly around Soonyoung’s waist. 

 

“I'll give you a bit less work to do,” Soonyoung conceded after they spent a while working on theory, “but. I have a surprise for you. It should be here any minute.” He was trying hard to hide his grin but Seokmin was too busy focused on the worksheet anyways. Where was Jackson? He had been a bit skeptical when his roommate insisted that he would be able to forfeit his Saturday morning to drive his pick-up truck around to deliver this. 

 

As if to taunt him for doubting, his phone began buzzing. 

 

“Bro! I'm in front of the Y. I think this is the right one, anyway.”

“We’ll be out.”

 

Soonyoung almost hummed in excitement as he hastily put on his case and motioned for Seokmin to pack up. Bewildered, the younger boy shoved his papers into his bag and followed. 

 

“Hey, I found you! Oh, this must be the special boy. Ow, what are you doing?”

 

Rubbing his side, where Soonyoung had elbowed him, Jackson flashed a smile and held out his hand to Seokmin. “How you doing, man. I'm Jackson Bruckheimer, Soonyoung’s roommate.”

 

“Oh.”

“What?”

 

Soonyoung looked curiously at Seokmin’s startled expression.

 

“I would have thought you were Korean… like us…” Seokmin blushed. That was really dumb of him to assume. But Jackson let out a bright, hearty laugh. 

 

“You have good eyes, kid! I'm adopted.”

“Jackson, he's probably the same age as you are. He's a senior in high school now.”

“Word, I always forget that I skipped two grades.”

“Actually, I'm probably older. I was held back a year.” Seokmin laughed sheepishly as Jackson roared at his remark. 

 

“Well, nice to meet you, man. I can see why Soonyoung has taken a liking to you. I know it's hard being around this borefest-ow! You gotta stop doing that, man, it hurts!”

“Did you bring it?”

“Heck yes.”

 

Peering into the back of the pick-up, Seokmin’s eyes widened as he saw what was inside. 

 

“It’s a practice cello, so you can work on the playing a little bit at home. Since you said you had a keyboard already but it was hard switching up the fingering between bass and cello…”

 

Uncertain, Soonyoung glanced over to see how Seokmin would react. Was he being overzealous? But the younger boy looked genuinely touched and Soonyoung silently sighed in relief. 

 

“I don't know what to say…”

“It’s a cheap cello that’s been lying around in the school for ages. No biggie. Say you'll practice harder this week.”

 

Soonyoung’s smile betrayed his cold words. It felt warmer than the sun to Seokmin. 

 

“Hop in,” Jackson whistled at them, jumping into the driver’s seat with a graceful agility. 

 

“Where are we going?”

“Your house, of course, we can't let you carry both instruments home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character of "Jackson" is actually modeled after Dino...


End file.
